On a night like this,
beneath clouds of white concrete
a cradle of motionless stars;
I sit and ponder,
the mystery of a king
trading his life for a starry eyed wonderer.
What would he have said
of this wooden jungle grounded in concrete,
mini-cages holding lives
he wills the gift of freedom,
healing rooms that cure the coffin
but not the bone.
Aye! I ask myself,
what would he have thought,
of boxes that look within but see not the person,
of mirrors that speak the truth
in syllabus that only the deaf comprehend.
Of little value is the spring dew
to the flesh of a spirit languishing from thirst.
On a night as such,
beneath white concrete clouds
I ask myself
of what use are stars
if they lead us nowhere in the dark.
If all the knives in the house were bread knives
with what would we butter our toast.
If all the knives in the house were matches
with what would we cut out vegetables.
If all the knives were the same
what a grace-less act it would be enjoy a simple meal
and a horrendous ordeal to chop the wood with a table knife.
If you and I were the same,
of what use is the day and night?
All for nought would be the
strings of silence played by the mid-night breeze.
All for nought the
chorus of birds at the command of a rising sun.
A hearty welcome to all new followers, viewers and faithful virtual friends, you gladden my heart. On this quest were many cry ‘abandon this infatuation’ I sincerely appreciate all those who haven’t dissented.
Shards of frozen crystals settle on a rock
Beauty lends itself a home on a bedrock of strength.
Exquisitely adorned by nature.
I feel your strength engulfing me
bidding me live, bidding me stand
in-spite of your cold and aloof nature.
Set this frame right next to me
and when cold hands come beckoning
The ambience of happy days spent with you shall comfort me.
Written for the daily post and photo challenge.
On the altar of hope lies a crimson heart
char my doubts,
pray the wind at dawn scatter my ashes
unto distant shores of pleasant pastures.
On the shores of an abyss lies a patched mind
swallow my pain,
pray the waves at dusk snatch my memory
into depths unknown from which none shall return
On the cross of forgiveness lies a broken body
salvage my wounds
pray the dew of heaven nourish my flesh
healing every crevice blotting out every scar
On the altar of love, a voice beckons …
’tis but for a season’ this too …
Deep and fearful
is the boundless pit of inferiority.
Throw in your mansions, jets
achievements and dreams.
Wider only shall it’s jaws grow, insatiable yet contained.
pulling you into a shrivelling shell.
His bedmate superiority
differs not by much.
His garlands of acquisition enthrones him on high
from whence he tumbles at the whiff of a challenge.
Bill Gates is not the prince of Wales
and the Prince of Wales isn’t Bill Gates.
Each holds a stake but one has the veins.
Find your God, find true royalty.
Many are the battles that swell my pride,
Deep are the valleys from whence my soul cries deliverance.
Battles fierce and valleys black no conquest surmounts the
victorious chant ‘I encouraged myself in the Lord.’
For with it inferiority’s loses its hold.
and the yoke of superiority is abolished.
My mind sings freely to the one who gave me victory
and taught me peace in the valley.
Tiny bubbles rise to the surface
Tiny cracks appear on the wall
Tiny ever so tiny
Lay down the chisel
Pack up the easel.
Standing on the capricious edge of definition
the shadow sprawled in break-away
the spine abandoned hopes of a breakthrough
Tiny ever so tiny
Was the last momentum
upon which a new hope depended.
Tiny but ever more exerting.
Written for the daily prompt breakthrough.
Shopping for greener pastures.
Moved in spring, happy as peach
Winters’ returned, bringing with it the wanders itch
I crave green pastures again.
A burning tree; illuminated by the angels.
perhaps a curse from the gods; perhaps a blink of hope to the weary traveler.
Certainly a haven for evil spirits; surely a place of restoration.
I’m just a tree hiding a lamp post.
And I am just a lamp post sheltered by a tree.
Let your light shine where ever you are …
Not every covering is to be shaken off, sometimes they add more mystery to us, sometimes they keep us safe.
No matter what you do everyone will have an opinion
even when they can’t see the whole picture.
Hugs are nice.
Kisses are better.
Hearing I love you is best.
and chasing bubbles with you on a warm summer afternoon
is a dream worth living for.
I prayed the Lord my height to increase
a head taller I stood above my peers by morn.
I stood tall, my glory and flaws a public showpiece,
a head bent, I sought solace from dreams and dreads that had me torn.
I prayed the Lord my gait to straighten,
soon I took aristocratic steps on the streets of my youth.
I smiled in pride, they swore vehemently shattering my haven,
sober and dismayed, I sought solace from green eyed sleuths.
The Lord answered
Alas it came as a DIY package; His part was to deliver the package with clear instructions and a helpline to assist, my part is to assemble the structure.